


Naughty, Naughty

by Ulan



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Professors, Semi-public naughty activities, Sexting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-06 20:44:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14655852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ulan/pseuds/Ulan
Summary: Glorfindel hates finals week. Fortunately, his boyfriend (yes, that happened) is only all too willing to entertain him.





	Naughty, Naughty

**Author's Note:**

> ~~What am I doing during my own finals week omg~~ My thanks to Zhie for the Glorfindel as agriculture professor idea, and also for Erestor texting on an iPhone because that is oddly sexy to me. 
> 
> This is my contribution to this whole Professors AU shenanigans.

Examination days are always a bore. 

There really is not a lot that a professor can do in the hours that the curriculum requires for students to spend on exams. Granted, the presence of a professor is also required, but all the same, it is certainly not one of Glorfindel's favourite things about his job.

He is at least an hour and a half in in the allotted examination time for that morning and has already done several rounds of the room. Having returned in front of the class after one such round, he now sits himself behind the desk with a sigh.

His phone, which has thus far been sitting quietly on top of his papers on the desk, lights up just as he settles in.

_Are you awake? You better not be neglecting your students, Professor._

The smile immediately blooms on Glorfindel's face at the sight of the message and the sender's name. He quells his excitement immediately though, for even distracted as they are with finals, who knows what his students might see.

_Hey. Good morning, and you know how it is. I don't really enjoy exam days._

He taps send and suddenly feels pathetically giddy. How it ended up that his crush from the Literature Department became his _boyfriend_ from the Literature Department still feels like a fairy tale to Glorfindel—well, a fairy tale or a really bad, really campy rom-com. He went through all the standard clichés: him being the new lecturer in town suddenly meets gorgeous full-time professor at the car park, moons over him for days until finally they meet again at the cafeteria, immediately after which of course Glorfindel, in his panic, spills coffee on hot professor's heretofore perfect three-piece suit. 

And so followed an embarrassing series of events spanning _weeks_ , where Glorfindel just stuttered, tripped, and continued to spill things and test the patience of Hot Professor. It all eventually came to a head when Glorfindel encountered the man along the long, open walkway of the Sciences building. In his shock upon realising who was walking his way, Glorfindel completely failed in dodging the papers-bearing professor, somehow simultaneously tripping and sidestepping in the _wrong_ direction.

"Okay. We need to stop this," Hot Professor had said after Glorfindel nearly cost him three classes worth of submitted essays after tripping and pulling the other down on his way to the ground. Papers had flown everywhere, which they spent a good five minutes gathering on that unfortunately windy day. "I have had enough of the injuries and my colleagues nagging at me to put us both out of our respectives miseries. My name is Erestor. You are?"

Glorfindel, unable to believe they were speaking beyond his usual bumbling apologies and the other's hissed out expletives, could only stumble out an odd, "Uh, G-Glorfindel?"

"Is that a question?" Hot Professor— _Erestor_ , that was—shook his head and pushed his glasses up his nose. (Glorfindel remembered this because _God_ those fingers were perfect.) "Nevermind. Give me your phone, Glorfindel."

Glorfindel had honestly thought the other was finally going to punch him. What his phone had anything to do with it made no sense, but he gave it to the other nonetheless, thinking it was only the least he could do. He therefore stood gobsmacked as (Hot Professor) Erestor proceeded to input his number on Glorfindel's phone, who also became increasingly flushed as Erestor proceeded to answer questions Glorfindel never even had the courage to ask: yes, he was single and yes, he was gay; not particularly looking to date but not entirely against the idea either, so if Glorfindel was up to it, there's a nice Italian place near the university where they could sit down and talk and practise _not_ spilling caffeinated drinks on one another's suits.

Good, smart man, Glorfindel's crush turned out to be. He was everything and more than Glorfindel ever hoped for: sharp, yes, but also patient and kind, rolling his eyes at Glorfindel's nervous blunders at first, but also eventually smiling and leaning forward, clarifying things between them by asking thoughtful questions or explaining what he meant when Glorfindel was too distracted to understand. It was the best first date Glorfindel could remember having. Good conversation aside, it also certainly was not a bad bonus that Erestor was sexy in the dim golden light of that cosy restaurant, his voice deep and smooth and doing things to Glorfindel's barely surviving sanity. He thought then and there that he was going to do everything in his power to make this man his. 

That was a good couple of months ago. Fast forward to present and Glorfindel is happy to report that he did, in fact, win the man in the end, and Erestor has been consistently— _increasingly_ —delightful as time passes. 

His phone lights up again, distracting Glorfindel from the pleasant (if initially embarrassing) memories.

 _Yes, I know. My sympathies; no one really enjoys exam days._

_I can perhaps entertain you, provided you still do your job and watch your students. Care to guess where I am?_

A golden eyebrow rises at the message.

 _Why? Where are you?_

_In bed._

The phone nearly slips from Glorfindel's fingers and he is suddenly _very awake_. The chair creaks as he straightens in his seat, his drowsiness gone as blood suddenly begins pumping actively again. His thumb hesitates at the screen at first, before he eventually takes a deep breath.

_Oh? What are you up to there this late in the day?_

Surely, Erestor is not-- no, Glorfindel cannot be that lucky. His lover is a formal, proper gentleman, the very _benchmark_ when it comes to academic achievement and propriety. Glorfindel's mind is just in the gutter because there is a whole variety of perfectly wholesome things one can say about being in bed.

_Thinking of you._

Glorfindel struggles to keep his face neutral despite the sudden activity in his brain (among other places) that is spurred on by that one short line. 

A cursory glance at the class tells him that the students, of course, are none the wiser. After all, who in their right mind would expect that one of their most illustrious literature professors could _ever_ be sexting their new agriculture professor? The very idea is preposterous, but Glorfindel is not sure whether the sweatiness of his palms as he watches Erestor typing is due to nerves, or if he is already riding that sweet, wretched high of anticipation.

Erestor, at least, does not disappoint.

_I do love waking up in your bed, although it does get pretty lonely when I find you are not here. Still better than waking up alone in my own bed, of course. The pillows and the sheets here smell divine._

That message promptly summons a decadent image of Erestor lounging in Glorfindel's bed. Glorfindel can even perfectly see it: black hair against the white pillows, rosy fair skin still flushed from sleep, sheets tangled between perfect long legs that just goes on for _days_. He imagines Erestor burying his nose on the pillows, body arching beautifully as he deeply breathes in--

\--and Glorfindel finds he has to adjust himself in his seat, jeans suddenly feeling tight given the proceedings.

_My apologies for leaving. Duty calls, as you well know._

He had told Erestor his schedule the evening prior, and he did kiss the other goodbye before leaving, though he was not sure how awake Erestor had been for that. The stern professor (by reputation anyway, which Glorfindel is beginning to suspect the more he gets to know the other's more mischievous side) is not exactly a morning person.

_You're a big boy now though, so I'm sure you can take care of yourself well enough when I am not around._

Glorfindel bites the inside of his lip as the screen shows that Erestor is typing again. God, to think that he is all but squirming in his seat just _thinking_ of what Erestor could say...

_Mm, yes, though I wouldn't say I am quite as big as you, and certainly I can take care of myself, but not as well as you do._

It takes all of Glorfindel's strength not to groan. Erestor knows exactly how to rile him. It is one of those blessed gifts of circumstance that makes one fear that he might be using up a lifetime's worth of good fortune in a short span of time, for not only did Erestor end up to be his, but their compatibility is also uncanny. Either Erestor truly is a genius in all things, or he and Glorfindel just happened to share an astounding number of kinks. 

Oh, but Glorfindel takes care of him all right. All day and especially all night, because one can never underestimate the power of months-long pining, watching one's colleague from across the hallway and thinking of the many ways one can get the other moaning. Erestor has the voice for it, too, not to mention lips Glorfindel is absolutely _obsessed_ with, wet and parted and as though made to be wrapped around his--

_Check your class, Professor._

Because of course Glorfindel needs that reminder, so thoroughly has Erestor distracted him. He raises his eyes and scans the room, still feeling slightly winded by the thoughts swirling in his mind. He does his best to focus for at least as long as it takes to determine that things are still fine, before his eyes slide back on the screen of his phone.

 _I can never really touch myself anymore without thinking of you. The warm weight of your hands, so strong and yet so good to me... you always do know when I need it gentle and when I need it rough._

_Have I ever told you how much I enjoy watching you work? There is something about the way you are not afraid to get your hands dirty, the way your fingers curl and bury in the yielding soil... let's just say that I have been distracted in department meetings of late._

The idea of Erestor sitting through a meeting daydreaming of the night before is a treat Glorfindel is not going to forget any time soon. A great boost to his ego, too, for he can even feel himself inwardly preening at the praise.

_The way your plants thrive in your care is also telling. I remember seeing that for the first time and wanting to get you to bed._

Glorfindel flushes at the memory. That indeed is a particularly good encounter.

_We didn't reach a bed at the time, if I remember it right._

_No, we did not, did we? I am not sorry. It was exciting anyway, going down on you in your own greenhouse._

Glorfindel takes a deep breath. _Yes,_ that memory, the first time they had ever fooled around outside of the bedroom. Glorfindel was shocked at first, but Erestor had a way with his mouth that brooked no argument, and so though he tried to protest at first, Glorfindel was hard and speechless in no time.

Erestor is just truly full of surprises. That particular episode was fodder for Glorfindel's fantasies for who knew how many weeks after.

_How long did you think about that afterwards, I wonder?_

The grin escapes Glorfindel before he can stop it. Is Erestor a mind reader now?

Well, he can't say Erestor's playfulness is not getting to him.

_I bet you just like the idea that I think of you when I touch myself._

_Is that a bad thing? Do you not think about how I touch myself thinking of you?_

Glorfindel swallows.

_I do like it better if you touch yourself thinking of me._

How is it, he wonders, that the sight of Erestor typing feels like a full-body caress? It takes far too much effort to keep his expression straight, where he is still at the back of his mind but remembering why that is so important is becoming a struggle. 

_More effective, too._

_Is it now?_

_Oh, yes. See now, when I drag my hand down my body, the sensation is more exciting. I imagine it is your fingers doing the touching, your lips leaving kisses on my skin. The very thought of it makes me want to dip my hand beneath the covers and damn the idea of dragging it out. I bet I can make myself come just thinking of you._

Fuck, that is so hot. One has to give it to adulthood, because ten years ago Glorfindel probably would have utterly failed at keeping his expression straight and he probably would have given himself away by groaning his pleasure, people around him be damned.

_You do realise that you are making things really... hard for me right now? I am working, you know._

_Come now, you are not giving us away, are you, Professor? Do you not want me to tell you how I would have wanted to fondle you through your jeans under the desk, how I would so enjoy dragging the zipper down the shape of your cock, mouthing it through the cloth as I go?_

All right, that is just too much, and Glorfindel has to close his phone and put it in his pocket for a moment while he takes a moment to catch his breath. 

Probably good timing, too, because then approaches the first student done for the day. She hands in her exam booklet and Glorfindel does his best to give her a smile.

Well, on second thought, perhaps the timing is bad. His face still feels flushed and this does not seem to escape the girl standing in front of him.

"You all right, Professor?" she asks. 

Glorfindel clears his throat. "Yes," he says. "Hot day, 'is all."

She looks even more confused by this as she glances out the windows. It is early spring yet. 

"Uh, sure." 

It takes another minute for Glorfindel to assure her that he is fine and perhaps just in need of water, which, no, she does not need to get because he will just get it himself when the exams are over. 

There is another message when Glorfindel is calm enough to check again.

_What I wouldn't give, Glorfindel, to have your cock in front of me right now. I'll take you slowly, wrap my lips around you and suck at the moist tip, run my tongue from the base and up, over and over until I get you fully hard and hitting the back of my throat. Just thinking of it makes my mouth water._

Glorfindel's brief pause while he conversed with his student did not seem to deter Erestor either, for this message is followed by another, as though as an afterthought.

_I suppose you are seated on your desk? I could also just ride you._

Hot breath escapes through Glorfindel's nose, the noises he wants to make increasingly difficult to keep in. It's a dangerous idea to entertain, but it was all too easy to see the two of them, Glorfindel seated, Erestor on his lap, Erestor's feet dangling above the floor on either side of Glorfindel as he rides him, that body arched and taut as it lifts up from Glorfindel and sinks back down on his cock.

His fingers seem to have a mind of their own as he types.

_You could. Just hold on to my shoulders and do it as hard as you need. My hands are on your waist making sure you don't fall, so lean back as much as is good for you. Angle me right so every thrust gets me that cry I love hearing from you._

Erestor's reply comes quickly.

_God, yes. This is feeling really good, Glorfindel._

Glorfindel can picture him now, where he is, the slight sheen of sweat already visible on him, making his pale skin shine in the noon light. Tendrils of hair stick on Erestor's face as his eyes fall closed, a full red lip between his teeth, fingers dragging down and going between his legs.

_Are you touching yourself, Erestor?_

_Yes._

The blood surges within Glorfindel. Oh, _yes_ , that picture.

_I have long kicked off the covers and I am naked on your bed, myself in hand. You are in my mind as I twist, fucking into my fist, and the heat in this room is becoming unbearable._

Fuck if that is not quite the picture Erestor painted. Glorfindel can see it perfectly, too. Those lips open now, red and panting as Erestor rides through a wave of pleasure, back arched, head thrown back. 

It is complete indulgence to think that Glorfindel's name could be on those lips.

_I know you know how sexy I find that. But I also know that you have been at it for quite some time, too, and so I believe you are more high-strung than your perfectly typed words suggest._

_If I am?_

_Then it is all the more important that you follow my instructions to the letter, Professor._

His fingers fly across the screen, typing out instructions as fast as his fingers could make them, for certainly it is not his imagination that needs to keep up. Images flash through his mind's eyes in quick succession, and the trick is more deciding which one of them he wants Erestor to do.

_Slowly now, Erestor. Do it slowly for me, just the light touch of fingertips caressing up and down your body. Let me picture you on the sheets of my bed, eyes glazed and breathing in those little pants I so enjoy seeing you do when you are already fully aroused._

_Sadist. You realise I am already so close?_

_I know. I also know you like to drag it out and come hard at the end._

Glorfindel sees a couple of students stand from the corner of his eyes. He types quickly.

_Do not come without my permission._

A natural top, Erestor once called him, part in jest and part something else, not quite an admonition but getting there. It is a quip about how quickly Glorfindel would take the reins once Erestor gets him to a certain point, a claim Glorfindel cannot well deny because the desire to pin Erestor down does get stronger the more he is overcome by lust.

It is not that Glorfindel is inflexible, or that he would not bottom for Erestor if such a thing would soon turn out to be the other's fancy. It is just that Erestor also yields so beautifully and seemingly just as naturally, playing with Glorfindel and pulling him into teasing banter until he gets him growling. And then Erestor slowly plays the prey—playing at least only at first, until he, too, will be overtaken by lust, and then it will be the two of them moving by instinct. It is a game they often play, and one that never fails to bring them to a satisfactory, often exquisite, conclusion.

Glorfindel's phone stays face down on the desk as a batch of students comes in to submit their exams. His phone vibrates twice, though it is a while before he is able to get to it.

_Glorfindel._

_Glorfindel, for fuck's sake. Are you doing this on purpose?_

Glorfindel's lips twitch as he types out his response.

 _Patience. To be fair, I am not doing it on purpose. The students have begun submitting their papers._

_God damned students._

Glorfindel would have laughed, except he is not sure it would not come out hot and breathy and altogether inappropriate given where he is.

 _Hush, my darling. The wait makes the ending all the sweeter._

_I want you to take yourself firmly in hand now. Up the pace a bit but keep it steady. Imagine my hand around yours controlling the movements, squeezing up once, dragging slowly down, and fast again in that way you like._

It does not escape Glorfindel that Erestor does not immediately type after that. He bites his lip again to keep from smiling. 

_All right there, Erestor?_

_Close, Glorfindel._

_Good. Don't stop._

It could be by some divine providence that examinations seem to be coming close to an end. Glorfindel cannot deny that stretching Erestor and making him wait is not both thrilling and sweet, equal torture to Glorfindel, who is only too grateful that he could hide his state from the students coming in to stack their booklets on the desk.

_Glorfindel._

_**Please** let me come now._

Glorfindel checks the room. One more student in her seat.

She shifts—and _yes_ , she is standing.

_Ssh, I know. We're almost done._

Glorfindel can only imagine the string of expletives that Erestor would spit out reading that text, but then let it not be said that Glorfindel does not consider that wicked tongue to be a turn-on. 

The student reaches the front of the room, stares at her booklet, and goes, "Oh!" 

Glorfindel watches as she rummages through her things and eventually produces a pen. She grins at her professor. "Forgot to write my name."

Glorfindel just smiles at her. 

Soon they are saying their goodbyes and Glorfindel is left in an empty room, stack of examination booklets on the desk beside his own papers, bag leaning innocently on the foot of the table. He can feel it keenly, too, the heat on his cheeks, the sweat on his neck, the weight of arousal throbbing and heavy in his jeans. He leans his head back and basks in that heavenly, torturous sensation, and his sigh, long kept and held, explodes in the silence. 

He takes his phone and presses the 'call' icon. 

Erestor immediately picks up. "Listen, you _goddamned_ \--"

Glorfindel laughs. "Hush, exam's done. Now let me hear it."

Erestor's voice, when it comes, is deep and breathy. "Fuck, oh _fuck_ \--" and Glorfindel has never been more focused on anything in his life. He leans back on his seat, eyes glazed and breathing through his mouth as he listens to that strained voice at the other end of the line, the sounds rising with that unmistakeable song of pleasure. 

Erestor is not a screamer, not at all, but all the same he talks, and the sounds he makes fill Glorfindel's head and leave little space for anything else. Erestor's voice oozes sex on normal days, but this close to orgasm it is positively sinful, and fuck if he is not bringing Glorfindel along for the ride with his steady, "Good, so close, Glorfindel, I'm--" because it is _impossible_ not to be pulled by that. The pleasure courses down Glorfindel so that he is straining inside his jeans and it is getting painful, but he only gives that a moment of mind before Erestor is whispering, "God, yes, I'm _coming_ \--" and they are both lost. 

Blue eyes close, head bowing and his free hand going to his face to hide it because there is no way, absolutely no way that Glorfindel cannot react to Erestor coming in his ear, no matter the place or time of day. He can feel the heat on his skin as Erestor's harsh breaths and stifled moans come in waves through his ear, each round a touch that goes straight to Glorfindel's cock, makes his legs spread unconsciously wider from under the desk to ease the tightness there. He is struck by the desire to be there, to hold Erestor at the peak and the afterglow, to ride that pleasure out with the one man he has wanted like no other in the thirty-plus years he has been on this earth.

It is a minute more before either of them speaks, both just exchanging breaths in each other's ears. 

Erestor is first to recover.

"Want me to send a photo?"

Glorfindel nearly chokes. Erestor's laugh, however, comes shortly after. 

"Kidding. Like I would during work hours."

Glorfindel heaves a sigh, a helpless smile stretching his lips. He is blushing still, he is sure. "What about non-work hours?"

"I'm not sure I trust you not to open it again during work hours."

"On my life, I swear I will not." And shortly after, because when has Glorfindel ever been above begging when it comes to this man? "Please? Even just a little bit?" 

This gets Erestor laughing again and Glorfindel loves that, how that voice still sounds winded and tired, but good in a way only sex can manage to do for it. "How about you come home and take the photo yourself?"

Glorfindel grins as he grabs his bag and stuffs his students' papers inside. 

"On my way," he says, managing to stand but... struggling to do much else beyond that. He groans at his own predicament, and is even slightly embarrassed as he admits, "Well... maybe a quick detour at the gents. I can't go far like this." He adds, "And we know who to blame, of course." 

"My fault, is it?" Erestor's voice is positively wicked. "How about you keep me on the line? I'm sure I can help you out."

Glorfindel laughs, and who even cares anymore if he walks the short way to the loo with his face red as a tomato? 

He is going to fucking marry this man.


End file.
